‘Of her young bairn she’ll ne’er be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter:
IX
‘But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.’—
X
‘Another may I’ll marry nane,
Another may I’ll ne’er bring hame.’
XI
But sighing says his bonnie wife,
‘I wish this was an end o’ my life!
XII
‘Yet gae ye unto your mither again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.